So it goes like this:

I fail my pack test. I bounce (at least) three more checks. I don't have enough room on any of my credit cards to get gas, and the gas light is on. I start bleeding, again. Which necessarily means that I start hurting, again. Like crazy. Truck bites a little girl. I get all emotional and frustrated. Then I go to target, praying I can find a few dollars or my target card isn't shut off, to get some feminine hygiene products. To be thrifty, I buy the store brand super tampons. Or what I thought were super because the box was green. Green = super. That's always how it is. Except in this case, it's a variety pack. I don't need a variety pack. I need supers. Thousands and thousands of supers. In green wrappers. Apparently it doesn't matter so much because the store brand supers in green wrappers are not so super and just generally do me no good whatsoever. Somehow instinctually knowing this would be the case, I get some name brand over night Kotex pads to play backup. Turns out, it's ok that the store brand non supers in green wrappers aren't super, because Kotex overnights are the size of a small baseball field, with wings, and I am fairly certain that nothing will escape them. I have coverage from front waistline to back waistline, and a little bit of a fan effect for extra playing field. So fail away, store brand tampons. I laugh in your non-superiority with the security of my giant flying  sports complex of a maxi pad. Finally, someone remembered why they were called MAXI pads. At some point I thought I would wake up from all of this as a bad dream, but really, I never did, and now that I have miraculously defeated the defenses of both the unsuper green tampons and the acres of maxi pad, I am even more keenly aware of the ever tightening vice of shin splints radiating from below my knee and wrapping around the outside of my ankle like a hot, stinging python of pain. It is a good night. To take many drugs and go to sleep early. Tomorrow is a good day to tackle the 10 days of schoolwork I am behind on because my second late registration petition was finally approved when the dean of the school got on my bandwagon. I have twenty days to complete three semester credits of research. No problem, since I plan on being bedridden throughout the weekend. It is, after all, my birthday weekend, and I can curl up in a spastic ball of pain and misery with my research if I want to. Especially since I am out of beer. And money. And patience.

The White Buffalo Love Song 1